Anchor
by misgivings
Summary: Anger had always been Kane's anchor. Now, he isn't so sure. Kane/Daniel, slash.


**Disclaimer:** I, unfortunately, own nothing. (OR THESE TWO WOULD'VE NEVER BROKEN UP.)

* * *

**S**omewhere along the line, they evolved into a dynamic duo. Daniel isn't sure when — and quite frankly, neither is Kane — but fact of the matter is, they started working _together,_ and _I_ eventually became _we_. They bicker, they argue, they tease. But in retrospect, they win, they beat, they survive. Daniel is amazed that they've held the championships for as long as they have; Kane is still amazed that they were able to win the tag team titles in the first place._  
_

_We're something else_, Daniel tells him one night.

Kane agrees, but for an entirely different reason.

oOo

Anger had always been Kane's anchor. It grounded him. It motivated him. It _fueled_ him. He never needed anything else; the hatred he harbored inside was sufficient enough for him. He was the Devil's favorite demon, after all, and he sure as hell wasn't going to drop countless years' worth of frustration, loathing and animosity all because of one (incredibly annoying) therapist.

"This is dumb," Daniel had grumbled before their first anger management class. Not feeling the need to respond, Kane had said nothing in return. Doctor Shelby had entered the room then, welcoming everyone with a pleasant smile that got under Kane's skin. Daniel seemed equally unimpressed.

Surely enough, though, their sessions with Doctor Shelby ended up proving to be useful.

It took a while for them to finally find enough common ground to work as a team — a decent, functional team with cooperative members — and their tempers still flared, but by God, they raised hell and it was, to put it simply, delightful. Kane realizes now that he should have noticed the warning bells right then and there (_when did he start using that term, it wasn't even in his vocabulary_) but what was he supposed to do if he had noticed the alarms going off in his head?

Glancing at Daniel, Kane knows he wouldn't have sacrificed this, even in the earliest and most heated stages of their relationship.

Being with Daniel was (_is_, he corrects himself) like playing with fire.

Playing with fire is like an adrenaline rush: exciting, intoxicating, exhilarating.

With sudden clarity, it dawns on him that he finds Daniel _intoxicating_, and the revelation is startling, to say the least.

oOo

The Shield is undoubtedly an enormous pain in the ass. Kane watches with hooded eyes as the trainers tend to Daniel's wounds. His own arm is sore after their attack, but he's less concerned about himself and more concerned about the bruises littering Daniel's body. Another warning bell goes off in his head.

"You okay?"

Kane opens his eyes (_his mind is too damn occupied to remember when he closed them_) to find Daniel standing in front of him, the familiar red shirt back on his body. "Sore," Kane grumbles, "but nothing a good beating can't fix." A smile is his only response, but it's enough, because he knows the other man understands what's been said. "You got the worst of it. Shouldn't I be asking you if you're okay?"

"Nothing a good beating can't fix," Daniel echoes.

Unable to help himself, Kane allows a low laugh to escape his lips. "Gee, that sounds familiar."

"Sue me. AJ already called us out for gimmick infringement after the Royal Rumble."

"Don't remind me."

Daniel shrugs, then says, "At least I didn't kiss you."

_Maybe you should have_, Kane wants to reply.

As if reading his mind, Daniel elbows him gently. "Maybe I should have."

His tone is nothing if not casual, but his touch lingers and Kane's mind reels.

"We would've never heard the end of it," Kane finally says after a beat passes between them.

The next words out of Daniel's mouth catch him so off guard, Kane thinks he's finally lost what little sanity he had left. "It would've been worth it." For the first time in his life, he's speechless.

oOo

With the Shield's involvement in their matches, they begin to lose more. They don't lose any serious matches, and they don't lose the titles, but they lose all the same. Kane paces in the locker room, fists clenching and unclenching by his side.

Inevitable. It was inevitable.

Shitty things were bound to happen. They always are. Things couldn't be a bucket of sunshine and daisies forever. They'd already run into adversaries that pushed buttons and crossed lines. Sooner or later, they would lose the championship belts. They would lose the spark that made them a great team. And then... and then they would break up.

Tag teams always did.

Daniel's voice is steady and reassuring. "We're no ordinary tag team." Five words. That's all they are. Five measly words that should mean very little, but instead mean so much more than either man is willing to admit. "We're no ordinary tag team," Daniel says again, making an emphasis on the underlying meaning.

They aren't an ordinary tag team.

They _aren't_ an ordinary tag team.

A third warning bell shakes Kane out of his reverie.

_If they weren't an ordinary tag team, what the hell were they?_

oOo

He's shaking with anger and he can't stop. "I'm going to kill them."

"No, you're not."

Kane growls. "Yes, I am."

"_No_, you're _not_." A hand lands on his arm and squeezes gently. "They want you to be angry, Kane. Don't give them what they want. Because if you do, you're going to lose out there. They'll use your anger against you." Kane wants to argue. They've just beaten Daniel senseless to get to _him_ and he's supposed to be something other than livid?

"They hurt you, Daniel," Kane says. "They _hurt_ you. I'm more than just angry."

Daniel's expression softens. "I know they did. I get it, okay? I'd be pissed if the roles were reversed. Believe me, I would be. But..." His voice drops. "I don't want you to get hurt, either. Least of all because of me." He moves his hand so that it rests on top of Kane's.

The anger almost melts away. Almost isn't good enough.

oOo

"You should have listened."

"Forgive me for wanting a little revenge, Daniel."

"I'm not saying I told you so—"

"Really?" asks Kane. "Because it sure sounds like you're saying I told you so."

"Will you just listen? I'm not saying you should have listened as a way of rubbing this in your face. I'm telling you you should have listened because I meant what I said." The locker door closes, then, revealing the haggard look plastered on Daniel's face. "You didn't have to get hurt because of me."

Returning the gesture he received earlier, Kane places a hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"I didn't..." A pause. "I didn't get hurt _because_ of you. For you, maybe. But not because of you. Don't blame yourself for this. Blame me, if you have to, but don't blame yourself."

Minutes pass before Daniel says, "okay," followed by a quieter, "just take your own advice first." Kane doesn't know how to respond to that, so he only nods and pulls his hand away.

oOo

It's ironic, Kane muses, that Daniel's touch is like medicine now. And if not medicine, a drug. It soothes him.

When he's angry, Daniel can placate him with a simple, meaningless touch.

He can't pinpoint the exact moment Daniel first kept him grounded, but as Daniel places a warm hand on his chest and explains to Vickie that they want a match against The Shield, he finds his anger subsiding. The realization that Daniel has replaced anger as his anchor hits him like a freight train moments after Brad and Vickie have left them to their own devices.

"Something wrong?"

Yes, no, maybe? He's unsure how he's supposed to answer.

"Just... thinking."

It's a vague answer, but Daniel doesn't push, instead changing the subject to methodically taking down Ambrose and his goons. Kane only catches bits and pieces of what Daniel is saying, his mind unable to process the fact that Daniel Bryan — former rival and current partner — has managed to become his anchor.

oOo

"How are we supposed to beat The Shield if they keep beating us to the beating part?"

There's five of them there, crowded in the dim hallway, plotting and planning and discussing.

"Maybe we're approaching this the wrong way," Daniel says. Kane, John, Randy, and Sheamus all look at him expectantly, willing him to explain. "We've tried divide and conquer. We've tried facing them head on. We've tried outnumbering them. We've tried enlisting help. But we've always thought in terms of brawn, not brain. If we're going to beat them, we have to outsmart them. And in order to outsmart them, we need the upper hand."

When Daniel's finished sharing his plan, everyone looks impressed.

Sheamus pats Daniel on the back. "Fella, you just might be on to something."

A week later, the plan (Operation: Take These Losers Down, as Daniel had called it) is in action.

The Shield doesn't know what hit them when the lights go out and The Undertaker appears in the ring a few seconds later. He tombstones Ambrose while Kane and Daniel make quick work of Reigns and Rollins. The taste of victory is sweeter than Kane remembers.

oOo

They celebrate, with dinner. There's no real label to the celebration other than "celebration", because it isn't casual enough to be two friends hanging out and it isn't formal enough to be a date. Kane isn't even sure which one he wants it to be. His mind is still spinning from his earlier revelation. Naturally, Daniel notices.

"You keep zoning out. Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on, I'm just—"

"Thinking? You already used that excuse once, tough guy."

"Look, I've just come to a recent and startling discovery."

Daniel scoffs. "Yeah, well, that makes two of us."

"It's just really frustra—" What? "What?"

"You're not the only confused party here, you know. We bicker like a married couple, we protect each other like our lives depend on it... Jesus, I don't even know what to call this dinner. Are we on a date? Do you even like me that way? Do I even like _you_ that way? I can't wrap my mind around _anything_ and you sure as hell aren't helping."

Oh. "Well... I guess that makes two of us."

A bark of laughter comes from Daniel as he stabs another piece of lettuce with his fork. "Who's stealing lines now?"

Kane responds in kind by stealing one of his fries.

oOo

When Daniel kisses him backstage after their next match, he shouldn't be surprised, but he is. He feels more than sees the smaller man smiling against his lips. "I was right, you know." Kane's eyes flutter open. He wants to ask what Daniel means (or why he looks so _smug_) but he finds himself speechless for the second time. "It was worth it."

_At least I didn't kiss you._

_Maybe I should have._

_It would've been worth it._

"Yeah," says Kane. "Yeah, it really was."

This time, he kisses Daniel. He can get used to the idea of having another anchor.

* * *

**Notes:** Let me tell you a little story about Team Hell No. For a long while last year, I lost complete interest in wrestling. The storylines were stale. The matches weren't able to hold my interest, and personally, I grew tired and bored. But enter these two little shits - with their dysfunctional relationship, fun dynamic and anger issues - and my interest peaked. Kane and Daniel are honestly the main reason I got back into wrestling, and now that they're broken up, I've slowly drifted away from wrestling once again. It was inevitable, I know, but I thought (_hoped_) WWE was finally heading down the gay storyline path—a mistake I've made more than once now.

I began writing this while they were still a team (and still only on the _verge_ of breaking up) and after discovering that I never finished, I felt the need to complete this piece. Think of it as the acceptance stage in the stages of grief. You know, the "I really need to stop shipping people on this damn show" kind of grief. Reviews are always warmly welcomed, and constructive criticism equally appreciated. I didn't have a beta look this over, so any mistakes that have been made are mine alone.


End file.
